


water in the desert

by dledee



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/F, underrated ship is underrated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 23:17:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10546014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dledee/pseuds/dledee
Summary: When she was invited to Dorne, she thought it would be all red sands and scorching heat and still better than King's Landing somehow. But never could she have imagined just how much better it would be.





	

It all started with a simple invitation from Prince Oberyn, an opportunity to leave King's Landing and every terrible memory of that city. How could she not accept it? So they had Lord Tyrion agree to it and she was off. Don't let anyone change their minds, don't give them time to regret a thing.

The first person she meets with is Princess Arianne, charming and courteous as only princesses can be, and then slowly she begins to find Oberyn's daughters. Tyene she finds in the sept, the younger ones in the water gardens, but it's the one named after the last Targaryen princess that catches Sansa's eye. She knows everything about her namesake, frail Elia who gave Prince Rhaegar two children before meeting a gruesome end. This Elia doesn't seem like she has much of her aunt’s. She rides and jousts and they call her Lady Lance as if it's a compliment, it occurs to her for a moment that Arya would've appreciated it but then the thoughts about her sister are quickly chased away.

The first few weeks Sansa only watches. She has never imagined that ladies could joust and there's a certain beauty to Elia's movements she can't quite describe, how she mounts her horse, how she holds out the lance. And when one day the girl comes to her, Sansa is sure she is to be kicked away, but instead Elia smiles.  ❝ You know, my lady, it's far more enjoyable should you actually pick up a lance. ❞  It's a challenge, and Sansa is feeling emboldened by this warm climate that has already made her shed layers of fabric. So she takes Elia's hand and they spend the next weeks working on the basics of jousting.

It's usually as dreadfully boring as Sansa had imagined and she always leaves a session so sore she can do nothing but sink into that fluffy bed of hers and beg everyone not to make her have to get up for the rest of the day. Sometimes Elia goes with her to her room and they talk. Sansa talks of Winterfell and snow and Elia talks about endless deserts and all the tales she has learned from her father. It's easy to find some sort of camaraderie in it, even if Elia is a bastard and Sansa is a highborn lady, it should help that the red haired girl hasn't felt very highborn in a very long time now.

But one day, after a session that ends only when the moon is already high in the sky, Elia instead tells Sansa to follow her. She's more used to this rhythm so it doesn't hurt as much as it did at start but she still raises an eyebrow and wonders if she's gonna regret following the dark haired girl to whereabouts unknown. Except Elia doesn't take her to somewhere unknown, she takes her to the water gardens, a particular pool, a bit deviated from where she remembers seeing and hearing the mess of young children with their happy laughters during the day, and deep enough that certainly only the older kids are allowed. Sansa is unsure, does Elia expect her to go into the pool in the dress she's wearing and get all wet? But Elia instead takes off her dress, lets it fall into a puddle at her feet and enters the pool. Sansa's heart beats fast against her chest, the water is transparent enough that she can see the other's body, would see it clearly if the moon was full. It feels like a cruel prank on the moon’s part that it's not, but she can see enough. And she has a thousand questions and fears begging to be spoken. What if someone catches them? But she knows even before speaking that Elia wouldn't care and her smile is so inviting, it promises to cure her of all ills.

Recklessly, daringly, Sansa takes off the straps of her dress and dares it to fall to the ground right in front of the other. It makes her cheeks turn red but she stays there for a moment, simply standing with no clothes, making herself into something for Elia to appreciate.  ❝ Are you joining me? ❞  Asks the dark haired girl after a moment Sansa feels lasts a lifetime, with those dark deep eyes as she leans forward. And Sansa does what she's told, puts one foot after the other in the cold water that makes her shiver, much to Elia's amusement.  ❝ This should be nothing compared to the North. ❞  And Elia moves forward, a finger running from Sansa's outer thigh to the side her breasts, whispering softly.  ❝ I could help warm you up, my lady. ❞

Sansa is unsure if it's the whole situation or simply Elia's touch, Elia’s warm breathing against her naked skin, or whatever it is that made her take an interest in jousting in the first place all those moons ago but the words leaving her sound heavy, as if it's one of Winterfell's hot springs and not a pool of cold water.  ❝ Call me Sansa. ❞  She says pulling Elia's body closer to hers. There's but a moment before their lips meet, hungrier than they have any right to be after all the time they have spent discussing their lives, hopes, and dreams.

And in that moment, for the first time in a very long time, Sansa actually feels happy. She had almost forgotten it was a emotion people could feel but Elia brings it to her in waves, her fingers inside her, moving far too expertly for her to be anything but putty in those arms. Small gasps follow one after the other as Sansa tries not to scream, bites down on Elia's shoulder to prevent herself from making too much noise. Until Elia speaks, too softly for it to be fair when Sansa can do nothing but feel herself unravel.  ❝ I want you to scream, Sansa. ❞  And the next time those fingers find just the right spot she does scream, curses the gods for everything.

It takes a moment for Sansa to come to enough that she can pull back a bit, look at Elia's smiling face and smile herself. Who could've known Lady Lance could be just as dangerous when she's not on a horse?  ❝ Next time I choose where. ❞  And she kisses Elia's lips softly, nothing like what it was before. If anything cause she lacks the energy to be hungry, is too content to be rough.

❝ There will be a next time? ❞ Elia asks with an arching of her eyebrow, a false sense of surprise in her tone, as if she already expected the answer Sansa didn’t know she’d give.

❝ Unless you hate me. ❞  The red haired raises her shoulders, actually failing to realize how much it would hurt her if Elia did, if Elia's answer was anything other than what it was.

❝ I don't hate you at all. ❞

❝ Then, there will be plenty of next times. ❞


End file.
